the one where monica gets a fake boyfriend
by ninetiesbecca
Summary: Mondler AU hookup, set during season 3. Monica doesn't have a date for Ross' birthday meal with their parents, so Chandler offers to go as her boyfriend. Clichéd, tropey fluff ensues.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, this is my first fanfiction! I've got the whole thing mapped out and it's not going to be long, probably 2, maximum 3 parts. Please review and let me know whether this is something you'd be interested in me continuing or not. It's based on canon up until early-mid season 3ish - basically, Ross and Rachel are together and Monica has recently broken up with Richard. Chandler isn't with Janice anymore, either. This chapter is just Chandler and Monica, but the next one is going to feature the Gellers, Ross and Rachel, and most likely Joey and Phoebe too. So, without further ado: Enjoy!  
**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Friends or any of the characters.**

* * *

"Chandler, would you keep up!" I yell, frustrated at his increasingly lethargic pace. We've been shopping since ten in the morning in search of the perfect present for Ross, and yet we've only managed to cover half of Macy's in that time, also due in part to my complete lack of idea of what to get my brother for his birthday. It's admittedly unlike me to shop without a gift in mind, but in the weeks since I've broken up with Richard, I've tried so damn hard to distract myself, consumed by organising Ross's birthday events down to the last details, that I've have completely forgotten about getting him a present. Besides, now that he's dating Rachel, it seems like he has everything he has ever wanted and could possibly ever want in life. He's with the woman of his dreams and in a serious relationship barely two years off the back of his divorce, and I'm still going through guys like I do lasagne ingredients. It's no wonder he's the preferred child.

"Monica, by the time we finally get out of this store, all of these _lovely_ gifts will have had their own birthdays", Chandler begins, me rolling my eyes as I realise where he's going with this. "So now not only do we have to buy gifts for _Ross,_ but we have to buy gifts for his _gifts!"_

I don't know why I expected him to grasp the urgency of the situation. Annoyingly, he's not even done.

"Is it me, or does 'gifts' not even sound like a word anymore?"

I scowl at him, not in the mood for his jokes, not when we're both tired and exasperated from hours of dead end shopping. It's a bad combination; my mood gets crankier and his material gets weaker. I theatrically turn my back on him, about to pursue my quest alone, when he gently grips my arm. I spin round to look at him, his face now serious, and I hope to God he's finally detecting the stress that's building up on me by the second.

He sighs. "Look, can we just grab a Starbucks or something for a few minutes?"

I avert my eyes from his, concerned about taking a break when we aren't even close to being done.

"Mon, I just suggested getting coffee at somewhere that isn't Central Perk. That's how much you've worn me out, woman!'" he says, earning him a small smile from me. This only encourages him, and he goes all doe-eyed on me, pouting as he whimpers, 'please?' in that innocent way that's so impossible to resist.

I cave. "Fine, but only for five minutes, or I'll just go on without you," I say sternly, but I can't stop myself from smiling at him and we both know I don't mean it.

"My feet are gonna thank you for it," he grins, and gently nudges his foot against my leg as if to demonstrate his point. I can't help but chuckle in response, despite my mood.

He places his hand on my back and I instantly find myself starting to relax as he guides me through the store.

* * *

Just when I'm feeling a little calmer, exchanging light banter with Chandler in the elevator, we come to a startling halt – and not on our floor.

"What was that?" I all but whisper, my voice laced with anxiety. Chandler places a hand on my shoulder but I shrug him off coldly, not failing to miss a look that looks an awful lot like sadness in his eyes as I do so. I don't know why I instinctively revert to the hostility thing, but I know he's upset by it, especially after seemingly getting through to me a few moments ago. He doesn't deserve it. I don't deserve a friend like him, to be honest.

Chandler prods repeatedly at the open button to no avail and my breathing starts to quicken. Glancing at my watch, I see that it's already nearly five; how has it suddenly gotten so late? With every passing minute, the chances of me making it on time to work at six go from slim to slimmer.

"See, _this_ is why you stick to the schedule," I mutter, a little smug despite my panic at our situation.

"Mon, we're gonna be fine. Let's just… press the emergency button!", he exclaims as it hits him, all the while trying to act as if it's the simplest, most obvious choice in the world, and that he'd been waiting for me to do it all along.

" _Please,_ like you didn't only just notice that was there", I counter.

The voiceover informs us that we're going to have to wait indefinitely before assistance comes and we can leave the elevator, and I exhale a little dramatically, mumbling curse words under my breath.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, the atmosphere feeling uncharacteristically tense considering our closeness. Before it becomes too unbearable, Chandler speaks up.

"Hey, what's going on with you?" he asks softly, a hint of sadness in his voice. A wave of guilt floods over me and I attempt to avoid his eyes, something that's quickly becoming my standard response every time he sees right through me.

"Nothing," I reply, my voice breaking slightly as I feel my eyes sting with tears, all the emotions I've been feeling over the past few weeks bubbling to the surface at once.

He doesn't buy it, of course.

"I just, I feel like I've done something to piss you off, and I just want to know what it is so I can fix it. You know I never want to be the one causing you pain," he says, and his voice is so quiet and sincere that I'm sure I feel my heart physically break right there and then. I approach him cautiously, sitting beside him, the both of us with our backs against the elevator wall. I take his hand in mine, feeling instantly warmed by his touch. I admit defeat, deciding to spill my guts to him, and he begins stroking my knuckles absentmindedly.

"Oh, honey, you know it's not about you," I say softly, holding his gaze.

"I just can't believe I allowed this to happen, y'know? I forget to buy my brother a gift for his birthday until the damn day before, I drag you around shopping all day, nagging and making you miserable" – he tries to interject at this point, but I indicate that I'm not finished, and he waits for me to continue.

"And Ross's dinner tomorrow means that I have an entire evening of intrusive questions and judgemental comments to look forward to and all the while Ross will be sitting there, all in love and oblivious to the rest of us and I just" – I choke a little on my sobs, Chandler's free hand caressing the back of my head – "that should be me, y'know?" Chandler nods, his eyes full of sympathy.

"That should be me, with Richard. Tomorrow was gonna be so important for us, and me" – I laugh, humourlessly. Chandler remains silent. I love him for just letting me talk and cry.

"It's so pathetic. I'm pathetic. It's not even about Richard – I mean, sure, I loved him, but it was more than that. For once at one of my family dinners, I was gonna have someone by my side. And that made me so freakin' relieved, so happy, you have no idea. And it's not just about having someone to offer a little comfort while my mom talks shit about me. It's also how I thought that for once, Ross wasn't going to have this one thing over me. That now, we might be equals. I thought they'd look upon Richard and I and be proud of me for having this older, sophisticated man who adored me and now I won't even know. I won't get to see my mother's beaming smile, or the look in my father's eyes as he realises his little Harmonica might just get married someday after all. It's just so typical, y'know? I finally get into a serious relationship and the guy doesn't even stick around long enough for my parents to properly witness it" – Chandler's reassuring strokes manage to soothe my increasingly rapid breaths, now verging on wheezing and spluttering – "and I know it's not all his fault we broke up, but…"

I find myself unable to go on as I fall apart in front of my best friend. In some ways, it's unexpectedly cathartic to just crumble to the point where picking up the pieces isn't a possibility in that moment, so there's no pressure to even try. Somehow, it's almost okay, because he just holds me and kisses my hair.

I tilt my head up to look at him, and my breath hitches when I see that his blue eyes are shining with unshed tears. I hold his stare, perhaps a little too long. My eyes flutter shut as I feel his fingers trace my jawline, his warm breath hot against my cheek, and I think I know what's coming. Nothing happens, and I think, then again, I'm pretty sure Chandler would never kiss me while I'm so vulnerable, he's too good a friend, and person, to do that, although up until half a minute ago, I was pretty sure Chandler would never kiss me, period. If it were anyone else, I'd say that my flustered thoughts were wishful thinking, but I don't, because it's Chandler and I don't like him that way. I guess I'll never find out what nearly could've happened as suddenly my phone goes off, and our moment is over. Chandler's eyes double in size at the harsh sound of the ringing and he jumps practically two feet in the air, knocking me over, causing us both to burst out laughing at how comically exaggerated all of this is. The tension in the elevator diffused, I answer the phone, cringing when I hear my boss at the Moondance Diner shrieking down the line. He reprimands me for what feels like hours, and yet it still comes as a surprise and a slap in the face when he fires me.

"I just got fired," I state numbly as I hang up, too drained to cry any more tears.

"Oh my God, Monica, I am so sorry," Chandler apologises, shame plastered all over his face, "this is all my fault".

"No, Chandler, it's not," I sigh, a little perplexed at why he's being so kind to me, and how he isn't yet sick to death of my own self-pity. "It was a degrading job anyway, honestly, it's for the best. In fact, I'd probably be glad right now, if it wasn't for…"

"Your parents," Chandler finishes for me. I nod slowly.

"It's okay, I don't have to tell them tomorrow. I lie enough about my job as it is, so what's one more?" We both smirk, and I have no doubt that he's also picturing my mother finding out that I have to wear fake boobs and a blonde wig as part of my work 'uniform'. Suddenly, he has a mischievous glint in his eyes, but I can also sense nervousness and hesitance about whatever he's just thought up.

"Hey, you know what we could do?" he asks, and it's safe to say my curiosity is piqued.

I shake my head, and he wiggles his eyebrows, as if trying to convey some sort of secret message.

"What if… you and I… I mean," he stutters, and I frown. I'll concede, there was a spark between us earlier, but I've put it down to the combination of the confined, intimate setting with our heightened emotions in the moment. I've always thought Chandler might be a little attracted to me, in the harmless, insignificant way that he is to virtually any female who expresses any type of interest in him (he went out with _Janice,_ for God's sake), but I never expected him to even consider acting on it, risking what we have over a little crush, if that.

I bat my eyelashes at him, feigning innocence.

"What?" I ask, and I'm not sure what I want his answer to be.

He huffs a little at my coyness, "what if you and I pretend to be a couple?"

Oh. I didn't see that coming.

"Excuse me?" I question, which probably comes off as indignant, but deep down I'm just intrigued and a little confused. He looks slightly insulted, but successfully downplays it, and proceeds to elaborate in a hushed tone.

"Look, what if I go as your boyfriend tomorrow night?"

My eyes narrow suspiciously as I try to process what he's saying.

"And what would I have to do for you in return?" I shoot back, "I mean, by tomorrow night, are we talking all night, in private as well as public?" I'm only half-teasing, actually marginally concerned that he'd be a little too willing to take the whole 'couple' thing literally.

He blushes at my insinuation, and it's adorably unexpected.

"God, Monica, no! Only for the dinner! And you wouldn't have to do anything for me back," he insists, a small, genuine smile on his face. I break out into a grin. He does that cute half-smile thing, and I know that he knows his idea has gone down well.

"You'd really do that for me?" I say, my voice barely above a whisper. His forehead creases, as if he can't mentally comprehend what I just asked.

"Of course, Mon, anything to stop your parents giving you a hard time. Besides, it isn't so bad for me either," he quips, "you know, I can't think of a better way to spend an evening than with Monica Geller by my side. You're a catch," he says with a wink, and it kind of makes my cheeks burn. You can't blame me; the guy knows how to flatter a woman.

"Okay," I agree, biting my lip to supress a smile at his sweet words. God, when did I start smiling so incessantly? All of my worries about the present, the elevator, work, are forgotten. He smiles back, not looking anywhere close to as crazy as I feel like I do. I tiptoe up to hug him.

"Thanks, Chandler," I say, my quiet voice resonating in the silence, his arms holding me tight.

"The pleasure's all mine," he retorts, pulling back. "This is going to be fun."

And I believe him. Tomorrow night isn't looking so hopeless, after all.

* * *

 **A/N: So, what did you think? Leave me all your burning questions, like, will Monica and Chandler ever find a gift for Ross? Do they ever get out of the damn elevator? Please bare in mind that I've only been to New York once, and only spent about a half hour in Macy's, nor have I ever got stuck in an elevator, so excuse my limited knowledge on those subjects. And apologies for any inconsistencies with canon, grammar errors, typos, etc. Hope you liked regardless! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Chandler and I arrive back at my apartment, it's approaching eight in the morning. Rachel, Ross, Phoebe and Joey are all crowded around the phone, and simultaneously stand up in surprise when they notice our entrance.

"There they are!" Ross exclaims, pulling us both into a three-way hug.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Rachel yells as Ross releases us, and I look at Chandler helplessly, not sure where to begin. "Monica, I phoned your work, and they said you'd been fired – we were worried sick about you! Same goes for you, Chandler!"

" _I've_ been fired, too?!" Chandler asks in horror.

"What? No, I just mean we were worried – God, where were you?!"

"In my _apartment_!" Chandler declares, clearly not understanding what all the panic is about.

"Ugh, you guys!" Phoebe says, irritated about having her time wasted and mutters something about phone calls becoming a dying art. Joey eyes us up suspiciously.

"Dude, you and _Monica_?" he questions, "not cool," to which Chandler begins shaking his head frantically. Ross has gotten over his initial relief, and now appears to have broken out into a light sweat on his forehead. It's really not what it looks like, although I can agree it does seem bad.

"It's not like that!" I say, "Chandler and I were out really late last night because we got stuck in an elevator in Macy's. By the time we were let out, it must've been seven or so, and since, y'know, I got fired, we both figured we had nowhere else to be and decided to get a bite to eat. After we'd done that and finally finished our shopping, it was ten o'clock. So we came back here, and you two," I gesture to Ross and Rachel, "seemed a little _occupied,_ so we went over to Chandler's instead."

Rachel blushes at my simple explanation.

"Well, you were supposed to be at work! I thought you weren't going to be back for two hours!" she cries. I chuckle as she stumbles over her words, embarrassed.

"It's fine, Rach. Chandler and I just ended up falling asleep in front of a movie and only woke up just now."

"Well then why was the door locked?" Joey asks as if he's onto something.

"Joey, you have a _key_ ", Chandler replies, leaving Joey unsure what to do with this information. The others look at him, incredulously. "Where _were_ you last night anyway?"

"On a date," Joey says, to no one's shock, "I went back to her place. I, uh, only just left, which is why we haven't tried my key yet."

The gang still looks at us sceptically.

"Look, guys, we appreciate the concern," I begin. When had Chandler and I become a 'we'? "But you really don't need to freak out when you wake up in the morning and I'm not here," I finish, rectifying my previous mistake.

"Yeah, I mean, we could've had dates. I mean, not with each other!" Chandler says, me cringing as he digs us a deeper hole. Phoebe lifts an eyebrow and smirks.

"Yeah, you wish, Chandler Bing," she says, and I'm not sure whether to be flattered or annoyed.

"So, uh… you guys really aren't hooking up, huh?" Ross asks to confirm in-between nervous laughter. I nod my head.

"No, we're not, although, there is something we'd like to talk to you about…" Again, with the 'we', Monica, really? I meet Chandler's eyes hesitantly. He doesn't say anything. "Tonight, at the dinner, Chandler is going to pretend to be my boyfriend."

"What?!" Ross shrieks, "Monica, why would you do that?!"

"Honey, _Chandler_?!" questions Rachel.

"Hey! What's wrong with Chandler?!" Joey chips in as if personally offended, his defence almost going unnoticed amongst the commotion.

"But Monica, surely your parents would rather you're single than with _Chandler_?" Phoebe says.

My jaw drops, shocked at how rude my friends are being to Chandler's face. I glance over at him, and he's shifting uncomfortably, his arms folded. Normally, he would make a sarcastic comment about them acting like he's not in the room, but I know this time they've pushed it too far.

"They're right, Mon," he says, his voice firm but his face showing how crushed he feels. "Your parents will just say you can do better than me. There's probably no point," he finishes, dejected. In that moment, I just want to reach over and take him in my arms, while the others get the hell out and think about the damage they're doing before they even consider putting down Chandler again. I know I'm not totally innocent, and that I may have unintentionally made him feel insecure about himself before, but I would never outright insult him so publicly and explicitly. Joey puts a hand on Chandler's shoulder, and I'm grateful to him for always having his back.

"Guys, what is wrong with you?!" I snap, disgusted at their behaviour. "Chandler offers to do this kind, selfless thing for me, that will help me a lot, no conditions or strings attached, and _this_ is how you react?! By making him feel like crap? I can't believe this."

The others remain silent, unsure how to respond to my outburst.

"Oh, Mon, Chandler, you know that's not what I meant," Ross says, "It's just weird, okay, the idea of you two together. And I don't see why you have to have a boyfriend tonight."

"Oh my God, I can't believe I'm hearing this. Ross, you had an illegitimate kid with a lesbian and our parents still think of you as the Second Coming! Look, you guys may not understand this but it's what we're gonna do. Please just go along with it." I look at Chandler smiling proudly, and I know I've made the right choice. I smile back.

"You're right, Mon," Rachel concedes. "And Chandler, honey, I'm so sorry. You know we love you." Chandler gives her a small smile, indicating she's forgiven.

"N'aw, I think you guys make a great couple!" Joey says, grinning like a proud parent.

"Not a real couple, Joe," Chandler retorts, Joey's face falling in response. How he missed that is beyond me.

"I, uh, have to get going. I didn't wanna say anything to make you all jealous, but I'm massaging Kirk Douglas in half an hour!" Phoebe announces to five scrunched up faces. "And Chandler… I'm sorry too," she says, giving him a quick hug.

"We should probably get going, too," Ross starts, "gotta get ready for tonight! Lots to do!" He says, over-excited as he sticks two thumbs up, still trying to compensate for the awkwardness. He and Rachel depart, leaving just me, Chandler and Joey.

"Joe, could you give us a moment?" Chandler asks gently.

"Sure you guys!" Joey replies, making suggestive facial expressions, and I'm pretty sure he's not going to let that whole thing drop anytime soon.

"Come back in an hour," I tell him, "I'll make breakfast."

Joey frowns.

"Pancakes or waffles?"

"Both, silly," I laugh. "I might even throw in some bacon."

Satisfied with my answer, Joey exits the apartment, shutting the door on his way out. I slowly turn around to face Chandler.

"Monica, I want to thank" – I interrupt him before he can finish his sentence, placing my index finger on his lips to silence him. Feeling suddenly exposed and unsure what to do next, I slide my hand across his face to rest on his cheek. I see him visibly swallow.

"Chandler, thank _you_ ," I plead, overcome with emotion, unable to tear my gaze away from his blue eyes. "No one's ever done anything like this for me before." It's so quiet, and I swear I can hear our heart beats, the rise and fall of our chests with every breath. Chandler places his hand over my one cupping his face, and I realise how quickly this is becoming dangerous.

"I just, uh, wanted to let you know… all that stuff the others said, about you not being good enough for me… well, I don't believe that, Chandler. And I know they don't either." God, I just want so badly to reassure him, to let him know that he's worthy, that he's _loved_. "Sweetie, you're the most wonderful person I know," I say sincerely. I feel my eyes well up upon seeing the look on his face, like this is the nicest thing anyone's ever said to him, and I wonder when we became such saps. "I… Chandler, you're my best friend", I conclude softly. I pull him into a hug because I think if I have to look at him any longer, I'll say or do something that'll have repercussions I'm not ready for.

We hold each other for several minutes before he pulls away, shaking me out of my peaceful state. He clears his throat.

"I'm gonna go shower," he tells me, "yeah, I probably won't make breakfast; broken self-esteem is a tough stain to clean, so I could be in there a while," he says dryly. I laugh outwardly, but inside my heart breaks for him. I make an internal note to reproach Ross, Rachel and Phoebe the next time I get them alone.

"Seriously, I have to get to work pretty soon, so if I don't see you beforehand, I'll pick you up at eight?" he enquires. I nod my head, and he gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before making his way to the door.

"Bye, Mon," he says, looking back at me on his way out, leaving me wondering what the hell I'm getting myself into.

I end up spending much longer deciding on an outfit for the night than I care to admit. I eventually settle on a black, figure hugging dress, ending a little below my knees, with thin straps and a scoop neckline that shows the perfect amount of cleavage. I tell myself that I only want to look nice for my own sake. My parents find enough to criticise about me as it is, what with my career and my love life, so I do as much as I can to not provide them with the ammunition to condemn other aspects of myself. Yep, that's absolutely the only reason. Everything's for their approval, cleavage and all.

I'm still curling my hair when I hear a knock at the apartment door.

"Come in!" I call out, glancing at the clock. Eight o' clock. Right on time.

"Hey you," comes the reply, and I can hear the grin in his voice.

I put my curlers down and leave the bedroom to greet him, chuckling to myself.

"I think that's the first time you've ever knocked…" my voice trails off when I see him. Not only does he look _so_ handsome in his black jacket and tie, but he's holding out a bunch of red roses for me, grinning sheepishly.

"Oh my gosh, Chandler, you didn't have to get me these!" I say.

"Oh no, these are for Ross," he jokes. "Speaking of, have you wrapped our gift for him?"

"Is water wet?" I reply, "I'll go get it." We'd eventually decided to buy him a joint present, since options were already thin on the ground for one, let alone two gifts, and we _are_ pretending to be a couple, after all. We found an expensive dinosaur inspired print to go on Ross's wall that was subtle and abstract enough to not be completely nerdy, that in my view would add a touch of creativity and sophistication to an apartment littered with skulls and fossils.

When I return, Chandler is putting the roses into a vase, attempting to arrange them perfectly. I bite my lip to suppress a smile.

"Seriously, Chandler, you didn't have to do all this for me! You're only my fake boyfriend," I remind him. He laughs.

"We gotta keep it convincing," he says with a wink. I giggle, and don't comment on how there's no one here to convince.

"Sure," I agree, "well, I suppose I'll take them, if it means that much to you," I say teasingly. He gently punches my arm and I act fake-hurt.

"We should probably get going," I announce, wanting to ensure we make dinner on time. Lateness does not fly with my mother.

"Are ya ready to face the music? Are ya?!" Chandler asks in what I have come to know as his 'scary' voice. I laugh softly.

"I was born ready, _Bing_ ," I tell him before taking his arm, him smiling down at me. Tonight will certainly be _something_ , but I know that as long as he's with me, it sure won't be dull.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you so much for the positive feedback from the last chapter! I was really nervous about writing this part because it's a big one, so I hope I did it justice. I really was joking when I said about the cab scene idea, but it actually went down pretty well, so I thought, why not give the people what they want? ;) I promise I didn't get carried away this time. Let the mushiness commence!**

 **Disclaimer: Refer to last chapter.**

* * *

We're barely inside the cab when my nerves begin to set in. I hear my friends' remarks about Chandler echoing inside my mind; what if my parents don't even like Chandler? I glance to my right, where he's looking out the window, his face illuminated by the lights of New York after dark. It's always an impressive view, even to New Yorkers, and he looks so peaceful, just watching the city go by.

I sigh softly. Even though I think the world of Chandler, I know it doesn't mean that my parents do or will. They're pretty hard people to please, and Chandler's not always been the easiest guest; we all know how he feels about Thanksgiving, and I'm sure he and Ross got up to their fair share of mischief back in their college days – frat boys aren't exactly well known for their good behaviour.

My thoughts begin to run wild, my mind spinning with doubts: about whether 'dating' Chandler is a bad idea, whether I look too slutty – I can just imagine my mother making a snide comment about how I'm dressed like a prostitute, which would actually be a step up for me now that I've lost my job, and oh God, my job! I don't have a job, or a boyfriend, or – my thoughts are silenced by the sound of my heart thudding loudly, the cab suddenly hot and thick like all oxygen is being drained from it.

I clasp a hand across my mouth in an attempt to supress my heavy breaths as tears cloud my vision, undoubtedly ruining my makeup, for which I curse myself inwardly. Before I can even process my thoughts, Chandler's hands are cupping either side of my face, gently yet firmly. He urges me to breathe, his voice low and quiet, yet somehow drowning out the blaring noise of the city.

"Shhhh," he soothes me, one of his hands now stroking my hair, his touch warm and comforting.

"It's okay, it's okay." He takes deep breaths, in and out, and my own breathing eventually adjusts, mimicking his calm rhythm. Chandler has never been the best at dealing with people's feelings, but when it comes to me, he's a natural. It's like he doesn't even have to think about it. He always knows the right thing to say or do to make me feel better.

Minutes pass. His eyes remain locked with mine, and I don't think I've ever seen so much care in a person's eyes. My heart still feels as though it's about to burst out of my chest, but now for entirely different reasons. Suddenly, the cab comes to a halt, jerking us both out from our daze, before continuing forth, and I shift back into my seat, the atmosphere growing tense as neither of us says anything, but are both hyperaware of each other's presence.

I feel his eyes penetrating the side of my head as I stare forwards, blankly. His hand reaches for mine, but I reject him, almost reflexively. I can't let him see me like this again. I just can't. We're tiptoeing a vulnerable enough line as it is. Determined not to let my emotions get the better of me again, I ignore him and retreat further back into my seat, putting as much physical space between us as possible. I plaster a smile on my face, but it's futile.

I know by now that none of this will work on Chandler.

"Mon, please don't shut me out," he pleads, and I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling my chin quiver.

Before I can inevitably succumb to his kind words and tender caresses, our cab draws to a stop, pulling up outside our venue in Midtown Manhattan.

Chandler politely pays the driver, and gets out the taxi. I stay frozen to my seat, certain that I look a mess, uncertain whether or not I can do this.

Chandler opens my door for me, and I reluctantly take his hand, stepping out of the car.

"I don't need you to be my knight in shining armour, Chandler," I tell him, and it comes out harsher than intended. I meant it as a joke, something to ease the tension, but it comes out bitter and ungrateful. He looks crestfallen, and I regret opening my mouth in the first place.

"Chandler, I didn't… " I trail off, meeting his gaze, hoping to convey my apology through my eyes.

He seems to understand, and smiles at me, though it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Hey, it's…" he glances at his watch, "already gone half eight. We should go inside."

"Yes," I agree awkwardly, with a nervous chuckle, "break a leg."

He laughs at that.

"You know, I'm a little surprised Joey didn't fight me for the 'boyfriend' role," he comments.

"He's missing quite the opportunity to hone his craft," I say, giggling.

We both go silent again. It feels like there's an elephant in the room, except neither of us knows what it is.

"I'm glad it's you," I say sincerely. He smiles, before placing his hand on the small of my back and starting to lead us inside, giving me shivers.

As enter the restaurant, I spot my parents, Ross, Joey, Rachel and Phoebe at the back, and two adjacent seats unoccupied.

"Oh God, oh God," I say through gritted teeth, scrambling for my compact mirror, suddenly realising how I'd forgotten to check my appearance after my panic attack in the cab.

"Mon, you look beautiful," Chandler whispers in my ear, not meeting my eyes. It does nothing to steady my racing heart or cool my burning cheeks, but I appreciate the ego boost nonetheless, thanking him.

We approach the table, wishing Ross happy birthday and briefly greeting and hugging the other guests before taking our places.

"Monica, it's so wonderful to see you!" my father exclaims.

"Yes, hello, Monica dear," my mother says, lacking the warmth and charm of my father.

I take a deep breath. Here goes.

"Mom, dad, you remember Chandler, right?"

"Of course!" my mother confirms, the judgement I'd feared evident both on her face and in her voice. Ross stares her down, while Rachel and Phoebe look on as if they're about to watch a disaster movie unfold, exchanging curious glances. Joey seems preoccupied with some bread that I'm guessing is served as an appetiser to the meal.

I let out a shaky breath.

"Well, Chandler here, uh… Chandler'smyboyfriend," I finish quickly, slowly entwining my hand with his. He looks even more nervous than I feel.

My father raises his eyebrows as my mother chokes lightly on her drink.

"He's… he's what?" my mother says condescendingly. I squeeze Chandler's hand.

"My boyfriend," I repeat, more confident this time.

My mother looks alarmed, to say the least.

"You and Richard broke up?" my father asks, confused at not hearing the news sooner.

"No, dad, I'm dating them both," I reply sardonically.

"I can't believe you didn't inform us of this!" my mother says, struggling to keep her outrage hidden. "First, you break up with a well-respected, qualified man, a family friend, without even letting us know, and then you come here and just _announce_ to us _publicly_ that you're dating _Chandler_ " – she practically spits _–_ "with no forewarning whatsoever!"

Phoebe begins to splutter dramatically in what I assume is an attempt to cover my mother's insults and spare Chandler's feelings, but from looking at him, I can tell the damage has already been done.

"What's wrong with Chandler?!" Joey quizzes, suddenly taking interest in the conversation.

"Mom, can I talk to you for a second?" I ask, my voice hopefully indicating that she doesn't actually have a choice in the matter.

"Why yes, dear, why not just say it right here, in front of everyone, since that seems to be how you like to do things?"

I scoff.

"Alone, mom."

My mother looks down at my dad, who just shrugs. Joey has returned to his food, whereas Phoebe is chewing on her hair, and Ross and Rachel are exchanging concerned looks.

My mother eventually gets up, and I escort her to the side of the restaurant.

"Mom, what the hell are you doing? How could you talk about my boyfriend in front of him like that!" Calling him 'my boyfriend' oddly doesn't sound as wrong as I thought it would.

"Chandler? Really, Monica? Your boyfriend?" my mother sighs, exasperated.

"What's wrong with Chandler?" I ask, curiously.

"He's just so… immature. I mean, you know he'll never commit, Monica. He'll never marry you, or give you children, or," – I cut her off, my desire to defend Chandler and our 'relationship' surpassing my need to impress her.

"Yeah, well, I love him", I declare, shocking us both.

"You… you're in love with him?"

I glance at Chandler over at our table, noticing him deep in conversation with my father, whom I internally thank for making an effort to welcome him and help him relax. Suddenly, Chandler laughs out loud, catching my eye in the process. I swallow, before turning back to my mother.

"Yeah. I am."

"Hmm," she ponders, narrowing her eyes suspiciously but seemingly easing off – for now at least.

We take our seats again, and I instantly take Chandler's hand in mine again, having felt a little less secure without it. I look up at him, smiling, neither of us anticipating the next question.

"So, you two," my mother begins, gesturing to Chandler and I, "how did you _fall in love_ , so to speak?" I freeze, sensing from Chandler's stillness that he was having a similar reaction.

Rachel gasps, and Ross rolls his eyes.

"Mom, in case you hadn't realised, this is supposed to be _my_ birthday, not Monica's".

"L-love?" Chandler chokes out, and I groan, thinking how I should've known that even 'Fake Boyfriend Chandler' would have intimacy issues.

"Yes, Monica tells me she's in love with you," my mother says, and I give her a death glare, still not having met Chandler's eyes since she spoke.

"Aww, you guys are in love!" Joey says, his face elated, and I can't quite work out whether he really thinks it's true, or whether he's just going along with the plan. Ross makes a disgusted face, and Phoebe is looking at us strangely for the first time. It's unnerving.

I finally look up at Chandler, imploring him to go along with this. Just a few seconds of my eyes capturing his, and he's already convinced.

"I'm in love with her too," he says, slowly and steadily. I look up at him, my eyes shining, and he looks surprisingly self-assured.

"So how did you fall in love?" Rachel echoes my mother, looking up at us both with wide eyes, engrossed in the story. By now, we have the whole party's fully attention. My mom raises her eyebrow expectantly, waiting for her question to be answered.

I open my mouth to answer, but Chandler beats me to it.

"I guess, in some ways, I've always loved her," he begins, and I draw a sharp breath, certainly not expecting that. "She's my best friend, my rock. She's the one I turn to when I've had a bad day, the one I tell first when I have good news. I can go to her about anything, and I like to hope she feels the same way about me." I squeezed his hand as if to say yes, yes I do.

"You know, even before we started dating, we'd been close for a long time. No one makes me laugh harder than she does. No one laughs more at my jokes than she does," he jests, earning a few laughs from around the table, myself included. "She's the most amazing person I've ever known. She's so, so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I've ever known," I feel a blush rise in my cheeks. "She's loving and devoted and caring, and so selfless and independent, kind and smart…" It's Chandler's turn to blush as he apparently realises that he's rambling. He coughs.

"I love how fiercely loyal she is, her protective maternal instincts that keep us all in check," he laughs to himself, "she's adorable in every way".

"Even when she's cleaning?!" Ross interrupts in disbelief.

"Especially then. It's the little things like that that make her Monica. Like when she gets competitive and you can see the passion in her eyes, her determination, her strength. She's fearless," he says, the both of us knowing that's a lie. I look down, not knowing what to say.

He clears his throat.

"So even though I've loved her for a long time, I didn't realise I was in love with her until… until a few weeks ago. We, uh, we got trapped in an elevator," he begins, suddenly nervous again, and I feel my heart leap in my chest.

I squeeze his hand, encouraging him to go on, praising his quick-thinking (we had been supposed to come up with our 'origin story' during the cab ride here) despite my surprise that this was the direction he was going in.

Ross frowns, looking at me as if he doesn't know the difference between a truth and lie anymore, and Rachel continues to look completely enamoured with our 'romance'. Phoebe is still giving us a shifty glare, and Joey seems utterly bewildered.

"Anyway, so, Monica had a bit of a break down," Chandler continues, failing to mention the reasoning behind it, "and I just remember thinking how I never wanted to see her hurt like this again. I wanted to protect anyone from ever causing her any pain. And then, I realised why… because I'm in love with her. And it was like everything fell into place. When she received the phone call saying she'd lost her job, just because we got stuck in the elevator and she missed her shift, I was so confused at how anyone could do this to" – I grip Chandler's hand tightly, suddenly realising what he just said.

Everyone remains silent, shocked by Chandler's admission. My parents exchange stunned glances.

I meet Chandler's eyes, which are brimming with fear and regret.

"Mon, I'm so sorry" – his apology is interrupted by my mother's interrogating tone.

"You lost… your job?" she asks, quietly gloating. I look down in shame.

"Yes, mom, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, I just didn't know how," I say, near tears.

"Why, Monica… I can't say I'm surprised," she says smugly, ignoring my father's coos of 'now, Judy'.

My face falls in my palms, as for the first time that evening, I feel completely and utterly defeated, not having expected my mother to find out about my unemployment, and naively believing that even if she had, she would've been too distracted by my new relationship to care. Just when I thought Chandler might be getting somewhere with her…

As if on cue, Chandler interrupts my thoughts, squeezing the hand on my face, urging me to take his. I do, and he looks me in the eye before turning his attention back to my mother.

"Well, you should be surprised," he says sternly. I bite down on my lip.

"Excuse me?" My mother says, indignant.

"You heard me. You should be surprised that Monica lost her job. You want to know why?" he asks rhetorically to seven stunned faces. "Because she is the hardest working person I know. She works day and night, and not just at whatever restaurant is lucky enough to have her at that moment, but for the five of us, too. She invites us into her home and feeds us, without expecting anything in return, simply because she's an incredible human being.

She doesn't have to do any of that. She puts her absolute all into everything she does, and she never complains, or quits when things get tough. She never gives up on anyone or anything. She cares about you when you feel like no one else does. And when she loves you, she loves you with every fibre of her being. So no, you should be surprised that she was fired, because she didn't do a single fucking thing to deserve it. It's actually my fault we got stuck in the damn elevator in the first place, so if you want to be mad at someone, be mad at me. But don't be mad at Monica. You could learn a thing or two from her, Judy. You should be proud to call her your daughter. I know I'm proud to call her my girlfriend."

I meet his gaze, the two of us exchanging shy smiles. I hear muttering and whispering amongst my friends and family and even some onlookers, the clinking and clattering of the restaurant customers, the soft lull of the background music that fills the room, but I find that it all fades to background when I'm looking at him, and suddenly, we're the only two people in the room.

I lift my left hand to his right cheek, stroking it before pushing my hand back to run my fingers through his hair, my eyes never leaving his except to look at his lips.

Spontaneously, I lean forwards, bringing my face close to his, his eyes confused, yet hopeful.

"Just go with it," I whisper against his lips, before pulling him close to meet mine. I kiss him softly, my stomach doing backflips as I feel him tentatively begin to kiss back, our lips melting into each other's for a few seconds. I suddenly remember we have an audience, and pull back slowly, my eyes seeking out his, but to no success as he avoids my gaze.

I absorb the reactions of everyone around me; my mother is embarrassed (so she should be) and seeking out my father's intervention, which he doesn't seem to care to provide; Rachel and Joey both have their jaws on the table, mesmerised by the scene they just witnessed; Phoebe is giving us a little knowing smirk, whereas Ross just looks a little grossed out. I look to the one person who's reaction actually matters, and see that he still won't look me in the eye.

"I need some air," he announces, his chair scraping against the floor, my heart sinking sadly as I watch him walk away.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope this didn't disappoint! I debated whether or not to include the whole 'Ross Got High' incident, and eventually settled on no, because I just couldn't find a way to fit it in. It's my headcanon though that Jack and Judy believing Chandler got high is one of the reasons why they don't like him in this.**

 **You may have noticed the little theme of Monica distancing herself from Chandler when she gets stressed or anxious, and I hope that in these moments she doesn't seem too unreasonable. In my view, she's not doing it to hurt Chandler, but because if she lets her guard down too much and either of them loses control of their feelings, then she risks losing everything she has with him, along with his friendship, his protection, his understanding, just him, period, at least, that's what I hope came across.**

 **So, what do you think? Is Monica too over-sensitive when it comes to her parents? Is Judy too harsh? Why did Chandler react the way he did at the end? Was his speech too cheesy?**

 **I wanted to kind of write the dinner scene in real-time, including every minute of the conversation (up until the end point at least.) Kind of unrealistic that all they would talk about would be Monica and Chandler, but hey, got to keep it relevant! Like always, if you want to read more, review! :)**

 **I'm thinking probably only one more part to go, now. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So sorry for the slow update! I hope people still remember this story - to recap, they went out for Ross's birthday, Chandler defended Monica in front of her parents, she kissed him, he walked out. This is the end, kids. It's like half three in the morning here in the UK, so I haven't proof read it yet and will do so tomorrow, so apologies for any mistakes, but I just really wanted to get it up tonight. I hope it doesn't disappoint! Thank you all for being so supportive and welcoming - AEM77, matteney and simplymondler, you guys are some of my favourite authors and it's been truly humbling to have you review this story so kindly.**

 **Disclaimer: Mondler and the gang actually belong to me. Bright, Crane and Kaufmann may not know it, but they do.**

* * *

I turn my head back to the rest of the dinner party, my heart thumping as the enormity of what I just did sinks in.

"Is he alright?" my dad asks, looking between me and my mother, who still looks flustered.

"Of course he is," I reply, trying to conceal how shaky my voice sounds. "Why wouldn't he be?"

Joey leans over to me, his face a mixture of concern and confusion.

"You think we should go check on him?" he asks in a hushed tone.

I shake my head.

"I'm sure he's okay, I mean, he's probably just feeling the pressure, you might've noticed that my parents aren't the easiest audience to please" – I laugh nervously – "knowing Chandler, he probably just wants to be left alone," I finish, hoping that Joey accepts it. I could do without Chandler telling him all about how I crossed a line, made him uncomfortable and took this whole thing too far. Chandler's implicit rejection is humiliating enough as it is. And I certainly didn't expect to feel this devastated at his apparent repulsion at our kiss and subsequent inability to face me. I know I've probably ruined our friendship, and I blink my eyes rapidly to keep my tears at bay, determined not to blow my cover after convincing my parents so well.

Joey smiles understandingly and backs off, facing the rest of the gang who are doing their bests to remain neutral, but are clearly dying to discuss what just happened out of my parents' presence.

I sigh in relief when the waiter arrives and everyone's attention turns to making their orders, happy to have bought time in order to come up with some kind of rationale to explain what the hell I was thinking when I kissed Chandler Bing.

* * *

One hour later, we sit with our empty dishes, my relief having since turned to disappointment as I realised that Chandler was not, in fact, coming back, the macaroni and cheese I had ordered him lying untouched besides mine.

My parents begin standing up.

"We're gonna take off, son," my father announces, pulling Ross up for a hug.

"Yes, it was so wonderful to see you, dear. And happy birthday," my mother tells him, kissing him on the cheek.

I look down awkwardly, suddenly overly interested in my bare plate.

"What on earth did Chandler think he was doing, storming off in the middle of his self-proclaimed 'best friend's' birthday dinner?" my mom says, stroking my brother's chin.

"Well, mom, perhaps you scared him off," I retort bitterly. She drags her attention away from Ross.

"Oh, Monica, don't be petty. It's not a good look on you." I roll my eyes, exasperated.

"Judy!" – my father begins warningly.

"Bye, mom," I deadpan, not wanting this encounter to go on any longer.

My father sighs.

"And Monica, we are very happy for you and Chandler," he says, his widened eyes imploring my mother to play nice.

"We really are, dear," she says, her voice softening slightly.

Happy to take what I can get, I stand up, giving them quick hugs goodbye.

"Mom, dad, thanks for coming," Ross says, tonight's events seemingly forgotten. "I had a great time."

"See you soon, kids," my dad says, addressing all five of us, before the two of them make their departure.

All of a sudden, all eyes are on me.

"Oh, Mon," Rachel begins with a laugh, "boy have you got some explaining to do".

I furrow my brow, feigning ignorance.

"What are you talking about?"

"Monica! Seriously?! That-that kiss!" Ross practically spits, his face scrunching in horror, "what was all that about?!"

My eyes scan the group, hoping for some backup. I quickly realise I've hesitated too long on defending my actions.

"It was part of the act!" I declare, trying to sound casual, "it was no big deal. So, I kissed Chandler, so what? That's what boyfriends and girlfriends _do_!"

"I don't know, Mon. I mean, it looks like you freaked him out," Joey states as I wrack my brain, trying to come up with a way to distract him. I _knew_ I should've ordered a dessert, even if my own appetite took a hit after Chandler's disappearance.

"Like I said earlier, my parents probably got to him".

"Yeah, but why would you risk it?" Phoebe asks incredulously. "I mean, you guys were doing so well" –

"I don't know, Pheebs", I interrupt her, before looking down, embarrassed. "I guess I just thought our friendship was stronger than this. I didn't think it would bother him that much, it-it seemed like a good idea at the time…" I stutter, ashamed. "I'm gonna use the restroom," I announce, getting up to leave before anyone can respond.

Once in the restroom, I eye my reflection in the mirror, feeling disgusted at the woman looking back at me.

"God, I'm so _stupid_ ," I say aloud, to no one other than myself. I feel my eyes burn with unshed tears before a creaking door snaps me out of my state of self-pity.

I see Phoebe approaching through my peripheral vision, and turn to face her, just as a tear decides this is the perfect time to run down my face uncontrollably.

"That was fast," she says teasingly, glancing at the toilet. I shrug nonchalantly while aggressively wiping away my tear.

"There's more to this than you're telling us, isn't there?" Phoebe asks knowingly. Damn her and her intuition.

I try and nod, knowing there's little point denying it, but it comes out more like a slight head quiver as more tears stream.

"Oh, Monica," she sighs, gently stroking my hair. "Do you have feelings for him?"

I press my lips together in a thin line, sobs threatening to escape, before looking up at her slowly.

"Would that be so bad?" I whisper.

"No, Mon, you can't help who you fall for!" I find myself nodding helplessly in agreement. Have I really… fallen for Chandler? "You might be able to do better" –

"Don't start, Phoebe," I threaten, feeling angry and defensive on instinct. "I'm serious. Don't ever talk about him that way again."

She raises her eyebrows, taken aback.

"Wow, you really do love him," she states. Her saying the 'L word' makes it all seem too real.

I scoff, a little pathetically.

"Wh-what?! Phoebe, just because I'm a half-decent human being who doesn't like to hear people undermine the worth of her best friend" –

"You're that, too. But you love him, don't even try to deny it. It's not what you say, it's how you say it. I've never known anyone so fiercely protective of anyone as you are with him, and vice versa. Not even Ross and Rachel. And the way your face lights up when you're with him, or when someone mentions his name, even now, when you're confused and heartbroken and probably pissed at him. It's written all over you."

My gaze drops to floor, stunned into silence by her admission.

"Even Joey can tell something's up," Phoebe jokes, and I let out a choked laugh.

"You're right, Pheebs," I confess quietly. "I… I love Chandler. I love him." My voice is so soft, I barely heard it myself, and I'm sure she hasn't, but before I know it, she envelopes me in a hug.

"But he doesn't love me, Phoebe," I cry into her shoulder, "not like this".

* * *

Shortly after my talk with Phoebe, we decide to head home. The wait for our cabs was tense, and I assumed that Phoebe filled the others in on our conversation while I was freshening up in the restroom, as when I got back to the group, nobody said another word about Chandler. I felt so exposed, having experienced such a public rejection. Rachel was giving me sympathetic eyes, and Ross appeared very unsettled with the whole situation, whereas Joey just looked sad.

Rachel goes to Ross's, and Phoebe goes back to her own place, whilst Joey and I take a cab together to our apartment block. Once we reach the stairs, he looks at me pityingly.

"Joey, if he's in there… tell him to come see me?"

He smiles, and I know he's happy that I don't want to go down the whole avoidance route. Say what you want about Joey Tribbiani, but I know nothing makes him happier than when we're all happy. He doesn't take well to drama and divisions in the group.

"Sure, Mon. You guys will figure this out!" he says, his voice filled with childlike hope. I smile in response, unsure, but appreciative, and for the first time ever, a little jealous that I don't think the way he does.

"And don't tell him I said this, but Chandler would probably kill to get a girl like you. You're a lot hotter than he is. You're a lot hotter than most guys!" he says with a wink.

"Thanks, I think, and sure, he might find me attractive. But I want more than just a meaningless fuck, Joey," I admit. His brow furrows.

"Yeah, I don't get that. Anyway, I'll send him over if he's in."

"If he's not, round up a search party," I say, not really joking.

He smiles at me and with a "night, Mon," slips into his apartment.

* * *

First I wait outside in the hall, between the two apartments, debating whether or not I should go in and see Chandler myself. I decide against that, and go into my apartment instead, putting on my pyjamas and settling in front of the TV. I eventually end up pacing around my kitchen, unable to relax while the situation with Chandler is still up in the air. I'm about to start cleaning, determined to take my mind off of him, when I hear the door close. I jump up, startled, but the visitor isn't the occupier of my every thought.

"Hey," Joey greets me. "Look, he's over there, but he's not in a good way. When I got back, he was just lying on his bed, not sleeping, not doing anything. He won't come and see you." I place my palm on my forehead, my fears threatening to push me over the edge again. I'm furious at myself for being such an idiot.

"But I'm gonna take off for a bit, and if you ask me, you should go and see him. He's being a baby, and I don't know what's going on between you and him but I know that nothing is worth jeopardising" – I raise my eyebrows at his use of 'jeopardising' – "your friendship, or our group dynamic, over," Joey finishes firmly.

"I know," I agree. "I'll go and talk to him. Thanks, Joey."

I walk straight into the apartment, not bothering to knock.

"Chandler?" I call out softly, not wanting to alarm him with my presence.

I softly tap on his door, letting him know that I'm coming in.

The room is dark, but light enough for me to tell that he's still awake. I sigh, turning on a lamp.

He bolts up off the bed and faces the wall, suddenly determined to conceal his face, and it doesn't take a PhD graduate to know that he's been crying.

"Chandler, please talk to me," I nearly beg. He turns towards me, his eyes red with what looks like both tears and anger.

"Why?" he asks, his voice laced with acid. "Got another _boyfriend_ assignment for me?"

"What is your problem?!" I demand to know, unable to stop the raise in my voice. " _You_ were the one who offered to pretend to be my boyfriend, I never forced you or even asked you to do it in the first place!"

He shifts his gaze away from my eyes, probably knowing that he has no argument.

"What is the big deal, anyway Chandler, huh?! Di-did that kiss disgust you _so_ much that even the _thought_ of _pretending_ to be my boyfriend again makes you wanna shut yourself away and never leave your bed again?!" He meets my eyes, his expression unreadable.

"I mean jeez, Chandler, I get it! You don't want me, you've made that perfectly clear, and it's not like I want you either!" I say, breaking our gaze again, blushing uncontrollably at the outright lie. "But it's not like you were actually my boyfriend, it was just one kiss, and I'm still your friend! You didn't have to make me feel like complete shit, practically reveal the truth to my parents and humiliate me in front of our friends!" Tears rush down my face as he continues to look at me oddly.

"Mon…" he says softly, and I try to calm my crying, desperately clinging to the familiar tone in his voice.

"That's, that's not… it," he says slowly, much to my confusion.

"What?" I say, not sure that I heard him correctly, or what else could have warranted such a reaction.

"You know what," he says vulnerably, his eyes shining with tears.

"What? I don't – Chandler, what are you talking about?" I ask, not letting myself believe what I want to believe.

"Dammit, Monica!" he shouts frustrated, storming out of the bedroom, me close behind.

"So, is this what you do now? Run whenever things get hard and complicated?!" I follow him out the apartment, and when it becomes clear that I'm not going to back down, he leads me into mine, no doubt not wanting to draw the attention on the neighbours or drag this into the streets.

"That's what I've always done, Mon," he says, a twinge of sadness to his voice, and I grab his hand, stopping him in his tracks, before dropping it, the contact proving too much for me.

"Well, stop doing it," I insist naively, "just, talk to me. I just don't want our friendship to be ruined because we kissed for show and it weirded you out. I mean, was it really _that_ bad? God, Chandler, if you hated it that much, all you had to do was be polite and stick it out for the rest of the evening and I would've thanked you for helping me out and we never would've brought it up again. But to outright insult me like that – so much for not wanting to see me hurt, and wanting to prevent people from causing me pain, etcetera etcetera. That was all bullshit, clearly," I say, my eyes widening when I realise that I've actually just confused real Chandler with Fake Boyfriend Chandler. The former tries to interrupt my rant but I go on before he can successfully interrupt. "I mean… I know you didn't mean all that, of course, that was just to convince my parents we were together… which I appreciated, by the way," I look down, flustered at my attempt at damage control. "I just can't believe you think so little of our friendship that you would risk treating me like crap over one little m-meaningless kiss," I finish, my voice breaking several times.

"That's not it," Chandler repeats, his voice firmer this time, but still equally vulnerable.

"What? Stop saying that," I say, wishing he would be less cryptic and just be honest, the way I've just been, the way he usually is.

"I can't believe you don't get it!" he says, astonished. I remain silent, wanting him to go on, not wanting to get my hopes up. "This just confirms everything I already suspected," he says, sadly, to my utter bewilderment.

"Can you just be straight with me for a sec?!" I ask, growing tired of fighting. I just want Chandler back.

"No, Monica, I can't. It's-it's too huge. And it's too hard," he tells me, and I just want to knock some sense into him and for him to tell me what's the matter.

"What's too hard?!" I say in my most accusatory tone, hoping it will provoke him enough to spill.

"All of it, Mon! Having this conversation with you, pretending to be your boyfriend" –

"Why is that so _hard_ , exactly?! It was one night, you were doing me a favour, we were just pretending" –

"I wasn't."

I gasp at his declaration. Does he mean…?

"I-I mean… You know how much I care about you, Mon, and with everything your mom was saying…" – he tries to cover his actions, but it's too late.

"No, Chandler, don't – please don't take it back," I plead with him, and his eyes widen at the implication.

"I – I guess, I couldn't just switch it on and off," he says.

"What do you mean?" I ask quietly, not sure if I'm hearing what I think I'm hearing.

"I mean… what I said… I meant it. I wasn't faking it," he clarifies.

"How… how much of it? Just the parts where you defended me, or…?" my voice trails off, the rest of what I want to say going unsaid.

He swallows, his eyes dropping to the ground.

"All of it."

And with those three words, my heart erupts in my chest. I feel both speechless and overwhelmed with all I want to say.

He meets my gaze with a small, shy smile.

"I-I love you, Monica. I'm in love with you," he says, and my eyes begin to water, both out of joy and an underlying sense of dread that he doesn't believe the possibility of _us_ is worth putting everything we know on the line.

"I guess I always have," he begins, and the both of us laugh, acknowledging how similar it sounds to his 'fake' story for my parents. "Seriously, though… I don't know when I fell for you, but I know that I didn't fully realise it until tonight. When you kissed me… God, Monica, that kiss. I can't even begin to describe what that was like for me. I just knew that I had to get out of there. I couldn't stay in that room, with you right beside me, knowing that that was the first and last time I would ever kiss you. And I am sorry, you know there's nothing I want less than to make you uncomfortable" –

"Hey, stop," I interrupt him. "Chandler, I… I feel the same way."

His face absolutely lights up.

"You… you what?"

"I feel the same way," I reiterate, deciding right there and then that I never want to make him feel insecure about or unsure of my feelings for him. I take his face in my hands, prepared to drown in his glimmering blue eyes. "I'm in love with you," I say softly. "God, I want you, I love you so much."

His face breaks out into a grin, the size of which I'm pretty sure has only ever been matched my own one, right now.

"You – you do?!" He asks, still smiling. "You sure?"

"Never been surer," I confirm, stroking his cheek. "And the others can say what they want about you, and you can think all the same things about yourself, but none of it will change that fact. I love you," I say, unable to stop saying it.

He removes my hands from his face, entwining them with his own.

"So… what now?" he asks, suddenly shy and uncertain again.

"Now, I guess we decide… whether we're worth it," I say, praying to God that he won't back out now. "Whether we're worth risking our friendship over."

"Maybe it's not _at_ risk," Chandler says defiantly, "I don't think there's anything our friendship couldn't survive."

I hum in agreement, holding his gaze, not wanting to be the one who makes the first move again. He places his palms on either side of my face, caressing my skin tenderly, before leaning in to close the gap between us, capturing my mouth in his, kissing me gently. It's blissful, and my heart melts at how much love and care his soft lips convey. I respond eagerly, reaching for his neck, warmth spreading all over my body. I quickly find myself deepening the kiss, my tongue seeking entrance, which he grants me. We taste of wine and mint toothpaste, and it's unlike any other kiss I've had before. Before things get too heated, I pull back, wanting to savour the moment. I rest my forehead against his.

"You know what, there is something I don't think our friendship could survive," Chandler states candidly.

"What?" I ask, a little anxious to hear his answer.

"Lets just say, as much as Joey can be a pain in the ass at times, I don't think I could forgive you for cooking him and feeding me the end product. I mean, I might appreciate the intention..."

I laugh, unable to believe that I got so lucky.

 **THE END**

* * *

 **A/N: So there you go! Again, thank you so much for the reviews - they truly make writing worth it. I hope Monica jumping to conclusions about why Chandler left wasn't too unbelievable - I feel like it was a pretty natural response to that situation, especially given her neuroses. I thought dragging out the angst a bit longer, but it's so draining to write that I kind of just wanted to get it over with, and I never intended this to be a long story. Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed this. Let me know what you think! I actually get fewer visitors/views/reviews with every chapter, and this being my first story, I don't know if that's normal or an indicator that people are losing interest. So yeah - if you can spare a few seconds, please review. What can I say, I crave validation!**

 **Thanks for reading. :)**

 **P.S. I just made a new tumblr - ninetiesmondler - in case you want to check that out!**


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